Starting Date and Time: 3rd of Mauven, 300 DM
Starting Location: Kerawac (Valley of Screamers) south of Scream Watch and west of Ruby Banks
CS URLs: Lyriia โLiiโ Elenye and Asher
The rolling plains and meadows of the Kerawac were beginning to turn a rich gold as the heat of summer lifted. Plants that had littered the carpet of green with a colourful explosion of wildflowers began to darken, boasting seed and fruit ready to drop and wait out the winter's chill. The carpet of gold nodded in long waves as the gentle breeze swept over it, mimicking the ebb and flow of the distant sea.
The Thunderfang tribe was one of the largest groups of Kvaren in the nearly continent-spanning grassland and this year had actually fractured into some smaller groups over the summer. But with winter on the way Warlord Ozlo had sent out the order to pull the satellite groupings back into the fold, wanting safety in numbers as the Tribe found a spot closer to the Ebonfort to dig in for the colder months.
A gray and black horse trotted along at a lazy pace, alone with her rider as they trailed up the gentle hills. The mid-morning sun gleamed off of the man's steel breastplate and the long shape of a scabbard across his back as he rode, sitting easily in the saddle like a man who'd spent a lifetime in one. They paused together at the top of a hill, the human turning to look out across the lower lands behind, surveying the land for danger. He let his horse drop her head to crop at the long grass, not in a hurry to get where he was going, nor to get back.
Clucking his tongue at Phantom, Asher guided the horse towards a shadowy clump of green along the ridge. To call it a lone copse of trees would be generous, for the tangle of woody brush was more like an overgrown hedge than anything resembling a true woods. Even so, Asher could see the tell-tale dark specs of blackberries growing on the vines and even a surly Swordmaster enjoyed something sweet now and then.
Once he was close, Asher kept an eye out for danger. Deadly and monstrous beasts made their homes in the Kerawac, and a shady spot such as this was a perfect place for a large predator to ambush prey. But there was no sign. Only about a million tiny but brightly coloured birds perching amid the tiny thorns, nesting in the tall grass, feasting on berry and seed alike. Asher knew not what any of them were called, but did know that capturing these tiny creatures was a common pastime for Kvaren girls, who kept them for a short amount of time and then released them for good luck on birthdays or weddings. Their presence, their carefree fluttering, suggested to him that he had little to fear from monsters here.
The tall, dark-haired man listened to the intricate, musical sounds of the grass finches and canaries and sat down in the grass near the laden brambles, taking a swig from the waterskin at his belt. Technically he was scouting the area around the Thunderfang's new seasonal camp, but in the last few hours he'd seen nothing alarming and decided to indulge himself with a bit of a break.
This morning he had seen Wren's parents again for the first time in over a year, and the painfully polite reunion had left the warrior short of breath in a way that no combat ever could. It was an ache in his heart, made worse by the golden grass and the carved gourds lit by candles decorating the entrances of tents in the camp. It had been fall when he and Wren had been married, and it had been fall a year later when she had died. The season should have been festive and beautiful, but Asher only felt his grief rear up to consume him. Rubbing at his face to ease his own tension, his callused hand scratched over the dark growth along his jaw. He reminded himself that he should shave, but knew he wouldn't until Sedrik threatened to sneak into his tent and do it for him while he slept.
Asher picked a handful of juicy blackberries, sucking on his pricked finger for a moment before enjoying the sweet, tart taste of his prize, telling himself that he was enjoying "the little things in life" the way Wren always told him to.
Starting Location: Kerawac (Valley of Screamers) south of Scream Watch and west of Ruby Banks
CS URLs: Lyriia โLiiโ Elenye and Asher
The rolling plains and meadows of the Kerawac were beginning to turn a rich gold as the heat of summer lifted. Plants that had littered the carpet of green with a colourful explosion of wildflowers began to darken, boasting seed and fruit ready to drop and wait out the winter's chill. The carpet of gold nodded in long waves as the gentle breeze swept over it, mimicking the ebb and flow of the distant sea.
The Thunderfang tribe was one of the largest groups of Kvaren in the nearly continent-spanning grassland and this year had actually fractured into some smaller groups over the summer. But with winter on the way Warlord Ozlo had sent out the order to pull the satellite groupings back into the fold, wanting safety in numbers as the Tribe found a spot closer to the Ebonfort to dig in for the colder months.
A gray and black horse trotted along at a lazy pace, alone with her rider as they trailed up the gentle hills. The mid-morning sun gleamed off of the man's steel breastplate and the long shape of a scabbard across his back as he rode, sitting easily in the saddle like a man who'd spent a lifetime in one. They paused together at the top of a hill, the human turning to look out across the lower lands behind, surveying the land for danger. He let his horse drop her head to crop at the long grass, not in a hurry to get where he was going, nor to get back.
Clucking his tongue at Phantom, Asher guided the horse towards a shadowy clump of green along the ridge. To call it a lone copse of trees would be generous, for the tangle of woody brush was more like an overgrown hedge than anything resembling a true woods. Even so, Asher could see the tell-tale dark specs of blackberries growing on the vines and even a surly Swordmaster enjoyed something sweet now and then.
Once he was close, Asher kept an eye out for danger. Deadly and monstrous beasts made their homes in the Kerawac, and a shady spot such as this was a perfect place for a large predator to ambush prey. But there was no sign. Only about a million tiny but brightly coloured birds perching amid the tiny thorns, nesting in the tall grass, feasting on berry and seed alike. Asher knew not what any of them were called, but did know that capturing these tiny creatures was a common pastime for Kvaren girls, who kept them for a short amount of time and then released them for good luck on birthdays or weddings. Their presence, their carefree fluttering, suggested to him that he had little to fear from monsters here.
The tall, dark-haired man listened to the intricate, musical sounds of the grass finches and canaries and sat down in the grass near the laden brambles, taking a swig from the waterskin at his belt. Technically he was scouting the area around the Thunderfang's new seasonal camp, but in the last few hours he'd seen nothing alarming and decided to indulge himself with a bit of a break.
This morning he had seen Wren's parents again for the first time in over a year, and the painfully polite reunion had left the warrior short of breath in a way that no combat ever could. It was an ache in his heart, made worse by the golden grass and the carved gourds lit by candles decorating the entrances of tents in the camp. It had been fall when he and Wren had been married, and it had been fall a year later when she had died. The season should have been festive and beautiful, but Asher only felt his grief rear up to consume him. Rubbing at his face to ease his own tension, his callused hand scratched over the dark growth along his jaw. He reminded himself that he should shave, but knew he wouldn't until Sedrik threatened to sneak into his tent and do it for him while he slept.
Asher picked a handful of juicy blackberries, sucking on his pricked finger for a moment before enjoying the sweet, tart taste of his prize, telling himself that he was enjoying "the little things in life" the way Wren always told him to.
